


no I don't hardly know her (but I think I could love her)

by vickovac



Series: she (she is the words that I can't find) [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/M, alicia makes an appearance because i love her, another gratuitous AU that nobody asked for, basically jake pulling amy's pigtails because he cant help himself, homeboy has a big old crush, just self-indulgence while i wait for s 7, v light smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 10:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20006638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vickovac/pseuds/vickovac
Summary: 'I'm in the library doing extra-credit work and you're working on a term paper due tomorrow'/'you accidentally took my coffee' 'you really drink that?'/'I took the flyer for the society you were handing out because you're so pretty but I have no idea what we actually do' AUorAmy Santiago, like any normal college student, has a routine. Naturally, her class rival, Jake Peralta, disrupts it...in the best way possible.





	no I don't hardly know her (but I think I could love her)

**Author's Note:**

> fic title is from the song 'crimson and clover'
> 
> also I know nothing about how university or 'college' works in the US. I did do some minimal googling but i just got more confused so all mistakes are my own. I basically used the 3 things i know about american uni from watching 90210 and gilmore girls.
> 
> i just really love peraltiago AUs ok.

Contrary to what might be expected – or what her high school peers cruelly predicted – Amy Santiago _loves_ college.

Sure, she’s had the shiny purple ‘NYU’ flag pinned above her bed since she was fourteen, and secured glowing recommendation letters from every single one of her teachers whilst the other kids were figuring out which cafeteria table to sit at, and okay, she’d already picked out her room colours when she sat down for her first meeting with the guidance counsellor.  
She’s been looking forward to the day she clutches that Art History diploma and _finally_ cinches that coveted mantelpiece spot since she could toddle.

But, one semester into her freshman year, and college is already living up to all of her expectations – she’s categorised them something like this:

  1. She’s made friends.  
  
(Well, a couple. She’s pretty sure her roommate likes her. Or tolerates her, at least. They haven’t exchanged enough words for Amy to really gauge how Rosa feels about her. The other girl spends as little time as possible in their room, and somehow always seems to slam back in at unfriendly hours, treading a cocktail of motorcycle oil, cheap beer and damp earth into their small living space.)  
  
But there’s Kylie, the nasally blonde she met in her first class. They had a slight disagreement over who got to sit in the seat closest to the professor, quickly realised they had a lot in common and now study together on Saturday nights.  
  
Other than those two, she doesn’t really know that many other people, but that’s fine. She likes it that way. Really.  

  2. She’s completely immersed herself in college life.  
  
For example, she represents France in the Model UN, and has major plans for becoming Captain of the Debate Team.  
  
(She didn’t spend four years of high school polishing Trivia Newton-John to nationally-ranked status for _nothing_ , you know).  
  
And alright, so she’s a little detached from the whole ‘red solo cup, sorority pledge, beer keg’ element of college, but Amy’s pretty sure those things are overhyped stereotypes anyway.  
  
She’d much rather spend her time building mentorships with her professors (she doesn’t want to boast, but last week her Criminology professor asked her _specifically_ to collect the pop quizzes from every row).  

  3. Nobody has teased her about her binder collection yet.  
  
Admittedly, that might be because the only two people to have seen them are Kylie and Rosa (whose right eyebrow quirked, either in amusement or disbelief, Amy isn’t sure).  
  
But still. It’s a welcome change from high school, so she’ll gladly take the win.



All in all, Amy’s pretty happy, and that’s what she’s currently telling her mother over the phone as she waits for her coffee in the on-campus Starbucks.

‘Yes, everything is going perfectly,’ she fumbles with her purse, hoping she didn’t let Kylie borrow her last ten dollar bill, ‘it’s all going according to plan.’

‘Mm-hmm, and you aren’t seeing anyone, are you, mija?’

 _Subtle,_ Amy thinks, flashing a smile at the barista as he hands her the overpriced beverage and she mouths her thanks. ‘No, Mom, I’m still single.’

She hears Camila’s sharp exhale and barely resists the urge to roll her eyes as she leaves the coffee joint and makes her way, as she’s done a hundred times before, towards the library. Her mother hasn’t explicitly said so (rather uncharacteristically) but Amy knows she’s apprehensive about her meeting someone now she isn’t there to vet him.

‘Ah, well, it’s funny you should say that, because you remember my friend, Susan? Her son is newly single, he’s reading pre-med at Harvard-’

‘Oh, is that the Dean of Admissions? I’d better try and catch him up, I think the list comes out next week!’ Amy exclaims into her phone.

(It’s a lie. The Dean’s List came out last week. Amy was on it, but of _course_ her brother David won a STEM scholarship the same day, so she didn’t bother telling her parents.)

‘But-’

‘I love you, bye.’ she stuffs her phone into her jacket and hastens towards the library with renewed vigour, determined not to let her mother’s probing dampen her productive mood. She’s finished all her due papers, and it’s nearly nine pm on a Saturday, so she and Kylie have agreed to spend their usual studying session revising for the Economics midterm next month.

Amy’s nothing if not judicious in her choice of library seats, and she’s settling herself nicely at a secluded table on the third floor when her phone buzzes.

**[20:58] From: Kylie**

**Hey Amy, don’t be mad, but one of the Model UN guys asked me to go to his party tonight. We could go together? I’m bringing Scrabble!**

Amy stares at the screen for a few seconds, her heart sinking. It’s not that she doesn’t like drinking or socialising – she _does_ – but the thought of third-wheeling Kylie and her quasi-date leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

She fires off a quick text saying she’s still at her dorm, she’s tired and will probably just go to bed, and sighs.

The library’s virtually empty, so it’s not like she has to be embarrassed about being alone. In fact, the only other people in sight are two girls sharing headphones and highlighting sections of a Psych 101 textbook, and one of the librarians arranging a display for the student newspaper.

A couple of rows ahead, Amy can just make out a guy surrounded by around seven coffee cups, a debris of dog-eared papers, candy bar wrappers and energy drinks scattered across his desk. His fingers are flying across the keyboard of his laptop with a mad fervour, and there’s a manic gleam to his eyes as he worries his bottom lip.

Amy huffs a little, opens her Economics folder, and starts writing.

x

An hour or two later, and her hands are sluggish as they drag the pen across the page. She needs caffeine, stat, so she abandons her laptop and heads down to the library café.

She orders her usual caramel macchiato and retreats to the vending machines while she waits, wondering if she should give into her cravings and get a chocolate bar. She recalls her disastrous last date, a couple of weeks back, with a dental student and decides against it.

As a result she doesn’t hear her order being called, and seconds later she turns around to see an _americano_ of all drinks being slid across the counter towards her and a guy wearing a weathered leather jacket heading out of the door with _her drink_ cradled in his hands.

Amy grabs the offending drink and hurries after him, ‘Hey, wait!’

He wheels around and she swallows, hard, because she knows that unkempt mop of hair and those liquid brown eyes, but she’s never been this close to him and he’s unnervingly cute. Her breath hitches in her throat and she swallows again to keep her composure.

It’s Jake Peralta, king of puerile humour and walking into their shared Criminology class at least fifteen minutes late. When he waltzed in on the very first day, after Professor Holt had already given them a solemn rendition of his expectations, she’d held her breath and waited for the thunder to rage.

But Jake had laughed off Holt’s reprimands and flung himself into the seat next to Charles Boyle, who he clearly knew well already because they proceeded to do an embarrassingly intricate handshake routine.

Since then, Amy’s taken a distinct disliking to Peralta, not in the least because Holt – despite making a point of disciplining him in front of the class at least once a week – actually seems to like him. At any rate, he seems to have taken it upon himself to knock him down a few pegs, which frustrates Amy because what she wouldn’t do to have Holt’s attention all to herself.

There’s also the small matter of them being neck-and-neck in the class rankings for the entirety of the first semester. Amy’s beat him in every single quiz, test and exam (mainly because Jake doesn’t even _try_ to revise), but a major part of Holt’s teaching is practical work, and even Amy has to admit that when Jake’s talking about a case or a renowned serial killer, he exudes a feverish brilliance.

She’s not spoken to him much, considering the unspoken competition between them, but it’s safe to say she’s not his biggest fan.

He’s taking a sip of her drink as he faces her, and she watches as his face morphs from bewilderment to disgust.

‘You took my coffee, Peralta,’ Amy says, sighing.

‘No doubt. You actually drink this stuff?’ Jake pulls a face as he takes her proffered cup and returns hers. ‘Jesus, Santiago, I always had you pegged as a green tea kind of girl.’

Amy rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, well who drinks a plain americano with four sweeteners? You might as well just ask for a cup of sugar.’

‘A broke college student, that’s who.’ says Jake, folding his arms.

‘What are you even doing here? I didn’t have _you_ pegged as someone who’s ever frequented a library in his life.’

‘Now now, flattery will get you nowhere,’ says Jake, with a cocky grin. ‘But I have this term paper due tomorrow and I only started it a couple hours ago and I guess it’s kind of a big deal or something, or that’s what my friends said, so they pretty much forced me to come here and finish it.’

Meanwhile, Amy’s practically having a fit.

‘A _term paper_?’ she gasps. ‘And you haven’t – you haven’t finished it? The day before it’s due?’

‘Well yeah, I’ve been busy,’ Jake says defensively. ‘We don’t all plan our day right down to the bathroom breaks. That’s right, I’ve seen your weird colour-coded timetables, Santiago.’

‘You’re sitting near me.’ the realisation hits her.

‘Guilty.’ Jake holds up his hands. ‘Just came down here for more coffee. I was getting kind of jittery after the first four, but now I can’t feel anything except my heart trying to jump out of my throat.’

Amy looks at him with concern, but decides they don’t really know each other well enough for her to say anything, so she just gestures forward and they walk together back towards the library, since they’re both going there anyway and it’d be weird to do anything else.

‘So, what’s got you here on a Saturday night?’ says Jake, taking a swig of his drink. ‘Wait – let me guess – the Jeopardy re-runs were cancelled. No, hang on, is this where your Pantsuit Club meets?’

‘I only wore a pantsuit to class once!’ Amy snaps, as Jake raises his eyebrows, a ‘really?’ look on his face.

They bicker the entire way back to the third floor until Mabel, the elderly librarian with whom Amy’s spent weeks building up a good rapport (you never know when you might need a 24-hour library pass) comes over to shout at them. Amy’s mortified, Jake of course finds it hilarious (until Mabel shoots him a death-glare) and they don’t speak again until Jake pauses by Amy’s desk on his way out.

‘I finished,’ he says, wafting the paper aggressively in her face.

‘You’re not seriously trying to gloat that you finished an assignment with-’ Amy checks her watch ‘-less than an hour to the deadline, are you?’

‘What? It’s due at one?’ Jake panics. ‘The professor’s office will be closed by now, what am I gonna do?’

‘Twelve, actually.’ Amy says. God, he’s bad at math. But he’s also looking desperate now, like a confused puppy, so she takes pity on him.

‘It’s okay, Jake. You can submit it online. I’ll show you.’

She lets him pull up the chair next to hers, and a few minutes later she’s showed him how to upload his assignment to the online database. He exhales heavily, slumping down in his seat.

‘Wow. Who knew your nerdiness would actually pay off?’ he mutters, as she swats him on the arm. ‘I’m joking. Hey – thanks. I’d really have been stuck if it wasn’t for you. Seriously.’

She’s touched by his sincerity, something she didn’t know he was capable of between the three sextape jokes he’s made this evening and the appalling Jamaican accent he used to make them.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ she keeps her eyes glued to the desk so he doesn’t see her blush. And then he’s patting her shoulders awkwardly and walking away.

x

Amy has an idea.

‘Think about it,’ she bites into her sandwich as Kylie listens, ‘how much time would students save if they could all practice shorthand? Plus it’s great for employability.’

‘That’s true.’ Kylie’s eyes light up. ‘Hey, we could use it as a chance to brush up on our Latin, too.’

Amy nods vigorously. ‘Great, so I’ll talk to the Dean and hand out some flyers.’

‘Perfect.’

That’s how Amy finds herself standing in front of the library, clutching a wad of flyers advertising the new Stenography Club – Dean’s express permission given.

But it’s been over an hour and nobody’s shown any interest. A couple of people took the leaflets with polite nods, but only to scrunch them into their jacket pockets without a second thought.

At one point a boy about five times her size nearly bowled her over and spilled yoghurt over half of her flyers, and when she went to throw them in the trash, she saw about ten others already sitting at the bottom.

So yeah, she’s feeling despondent.

‘Hey, Santiago. You doing community service or something? Did Mabel call the cops on you for squatting in the library?’

Ugh. The last thing she wants to do right now is fend off Peralta’s wisecracks, but he’s standing in front of her, arms folded, wearing that self-satisfied smirk.

Next to him is a girl with long auburn hair, looking at Amy with a searing scrutiny. On his other side stands Charles, who for some reason is looking excitedly between her and Jake.

‘I’m starting a new society, Peralta, but it’s not suiting your cultural specialty. There won’t be a ninja turtle in sight.’ she says.

Jake snorts. ‘New society? What is it, Stationary Lovers United?’

‘ _S_ _tenography Club_ ,’ the auburn-haired girl has taken one of the flyers without Amy noticing and is reading it with undisguised distaste. ‘That’s one way to ensure nobody makes eye contact with you.’

That stings a little, and it’s as though Jake can see Amy’s a little hurt because he gives the girl an inconspicuous elbow.

‘Hey, give me one,’ Jake takes the flyer without looking at it. ‘Well, gotsta rush. Got a date with a hot girl from the Law department and I don’t wanna be late. Later, Santiago.’

Amy shakes her head at him, Charles and his friend following in Jake’s wake. She doesn’t know what to make of that encounter.

x

The first meeting of the Club is the following Monday. Amy and Kylie agreed that most people want to keep their Friday nights and weekends free, so they buy healthy snacks and set everything up in one of the lecture rooms. By seven, everything’s ready for the new recruits.

Only nobody comes.

‘Maybe we put the wrong room on the flyers,’ Kylie suggests weakly. Amy shakes her head. She’d rather die before she made a typo.

Seven-ten. Seven-fifteen. Seven-thirty.

‘How many people took leaflets?’

‘I don’t know. A few.’ Amy doesn’t mention that most of them are probably at a landfill site right now.

‘I think we should go home.’ Kylie says, gently, and Amy appreciates it but it doesn’t make the lump thick in the back of her throat any less _there_.

‘Hey, sorry I’m late-’

The door swings open and Jake Peralta walks in, but the grin withers on his face when he sees the room is empty, bar Amy and Kylie.

‘Where is everyone? Did you guys already finish?’

‘What are you doing here, Jake?’ Amy finds her voice. ‘Did you just come to poke fun at me? Oh ha-ha, Amy’s a loser and nobody wanted to come to her club. Where’s that other girl you were with, I’m sure she’d find this hilarious. Or that girl from Law, stand-up comedy is a perfect first date-’

‘Hey, whoa-’ Jake holds his hands up. ‘I didn’t – I wasn’t – Amy, I didn’t come to make fun of you.’

Kylie looks between them, casting a wary eye on Jake. ‘I’m going to, um, take back all the pens we borrowed.’

She flees.

Amy crosses her arms and fixes Jake with a blistering glare.

‘Look, I was just gonna annoy you.’ he says, without looking away. ‘I swear, I didn’t have anything else to do so I thought I’d try my hand at…um…drawing? Yeah, I don’t really know what stenography is. I didn’t mean to, y’know, hurt your feelings or anything.’

He pauses. ‘And hey – about Gina, the girl you met today. She’s kind of sarcastic and sometimes crosses the line. Especially when you don’t know her and can’t tell when she’s being serious.’

Amy sighs and shakes her head, her dark hair toppling into her face. ‘Yeah, well, none of that matters anyway, since nobody came.’

‘It’s possible all the old grandmas died of old age before they got here.’ Jake says, and he looks utterly delighted with himself when Amy actually laughs.

‘Come on, maybe people just forgot. I don’t know where I’m supposed to be half the time.’ he adds.

‘Unlikely,’ Amy says, biting her lip. ‘It’s not just that. If not enough people sign up we won’t have enough money to fund the society fees and the Dean will close it down.’

She looks up from her fingernails to see Jake watching her with an expression she can’t quite pin down. It’s not pity, thank God, but he looks almost…torn?

‘Well, you’ve got yourself one more member.’ he says, reaching for the sign-up sheet. ‘I can’t promise I’ll make it here every week…deadlines to not meet and all…’

Amy’s momentarily lost for words. Is this really Jake Peralta, being sweet to her for no reason? Is there really that softness in his eyes while he’s looking at her? Is she imagining this?

‘Jake.’ she says, hoarsely, and he stops talking. ‘Thank you. You’re…a good friend.’

She waits for his derisive laughter, his immediate correction that he is absolutely not her friend, because he’s ‘cool’ and she’s just not, but it never comes.

Instead he gives her this crooked smile, a little embarrassed maybe, but undoubtedly pleased.

Her heart skips a beat.

x

In the space of a semester, having Jake Peralta as her friend completely disrupts Amy’s routine. Which is unheard of. But it’s happening.

For one thing, he’s taken to sitting behind her in the few classes they share and has started employing different tactics to distract her, with varying success rates.

This includes whispering stupid jokes into her hair so she’s acutely aware of his hot breath lingering on the nape of her neck, flipping as many sour candies onto her desk as he can before she notices, and teasing her whenever Professor Holt rebuffs her blatant attempts to ~~suck up to him~~ praise him for the gravitas with which he conducts every class.

Most annoying, though, are the spit-wads she spends a considerable amount of time picking out of her hair when the hour’s up, courtesy of – who else – Jake Peralta.

It took her a while to realise he was actually writing things on the tiny shreds of paper before targeting the back of her head. They mostly consist of lame pick-up lines, like ‘if you were a library book, I’d check you out’ or his usual ribbing ‘hey, your nickname should be lame-y santiago’.

But once or twice, they’ve been sort of…sweet. Like the one she found yesterday: ‘congrats on getting the top mark in the class (nerd)’.

She smiled a little at that one.

It’s harmless, and she knows if Jake thought she was actually upset by it, he’d stop in an instant. But she isn’t, so he doesn’t, although Kylie, sniffing disapprovingly, seems to think Amy has _other motivations_ for not nipping Jake’s childish, attention-seeking antics in the bud.

Amy’s trying not to think about that too much.

Her unwavering attention in class isn’t the only thing that Jake’s managed to change, however. He takes it upon himself to sign up to every single one of the tutoring sessions she’s started holding to bulk up her CV.

‘But Jake, you don’t even _take_ Intro to Economics,’ Amy frowns, when she inspects the sign-up sheet, ‘why would you want to waste your time going over topics you don’t study? It’ll just be me and you, sitting together, for hours.’

It’s probably just a strange inflection of the dewy morning light, but she swears that Jake’s cheeks flush a little as he answers.

‘Hey, I’m trying to be more responsible with my money now I’m a broke college student, Santiago, I thought you’d be on board with that!’

Amy decides it’s probably about time Jake learns that spending a week’s grocery money on renting Die Hard twelve times isn’t a wise investment choice, so she lets it slide.

Of course, it does mean that they’re spending a lot of time together – inside and outside of class. Jake suggests meeting alternately at their dorms instead of the library for the tutoring sessions.

He hasn’t _said,_ but Amy’s certain he’s afraid of the librarian that shouted at them that one time and oddly enough, she can’t bring herself to tease him about it.

Because truthfully, she likes having Jake in her room. Sure, he makes fun of her ‘grandma’ furnishing choices and has somehow managed to spill orange soda on three of her quilts.

But he’s also a glorious ray of sunshine, brightening up the lonely little space with an endless stream of jokes and spontaneous lines of rap just roll off his tongue and make Amy laugh appreciatively. One time, after a particularly long tutoring session in which they end up abandoning the actual tutoring twenty minutes in to watch Magnum P.I., Jake leaves his hoodie on Amy’s bed and she lets her fingers trail delicately over the fabric for a moment before putting it away.

She does not allow herself to smell it, if you’re wondering, although Jake still hasn’t noticed it’s missing and Amy might keep ‘forgetting’ to tell him that it’s folded neatly in her wardrobe, ready to give back.

But even though Jake’s sworn off setting foot in the library again, that doesn’t stop him from tiptoeing past Mabel the Librarian to bring Amy coffees and muffins from Starbucks. When she tries to press a couple of dollars into his palm, he shakes his head.

‘I’m buying them with the money you’re helping me save by not going online and buying loads of crap.’ he says, proudly.

‘But Jake, you’re meant to be _saving_ that money,’ Amy protests, to no avail. So she drinks her coffees and eats her muffins and doesn’t think too hard about the fact there’s always a different name on the cup.

It’s ‘Santia-go-to-bed’ when she’s been there for more than two hours, which Jake considers plain wrong. It was ‘Maim-me Santiago’ when she twisted his arm behind his back for trying to steal one of her binders (he was only going to hide it until she noticed, or so he claims).

She would never tell him, but her treacherous heart lurches when it says ‘Ames’, because there’s something so inherently soft, so intimate, about that nickname. Instead, her smile is warmer, her voice honeyed, when she takes the cup from him.

The never-ending saga of Ways Jake Peralta Has Irrecoverably Changed Amy Santiago’s Life™ continues.

Jake keeps pestering her to get Snapchat, something she’s never really seen the appeal of before, but she finally acquiesces and downloads it, and she has to admit it’s kind of fun.

She only has Jake on there (Gina hasn’t accepted her friend request yet, but she knows it’s coming) but that’s fine by her.

Honestly, she expected him to just spam her with selfies of himself in fancy filters or videos of him using his unopened textbooks as props for stupid tricks just to infuriate her, and admittedly, there is plenty of that. He puts embarrassing montages of her on his story and zooms in on her face too much, but the jibes in his captions are always undercut by the fondness in his laughter in the background.

But on days when he knows she has a big test coming up, he’ll only send one or two, and they’re always something goofy and light-hearted, aimed at distracting her from the crippling pre-exam anxiety. It works. They even have a Streak; Jake is unashamedly protective of it and isn’t above bugging her until she saves it before the timer runs out.

He still comes to Stenography Club meetings, despite Kylie’s mild hostility towards him – Amy’s working on that – and although he clearly has no interest in actually participating, he brings his friends along. Most of them are obviously just humouring him, but one or two actually show some genuine interest.

Amy gives Jake a grateful smile, and he reciprocates with a grin that’s positively blinding and makes her a little unsteady on her feet.

(Gina comes to one meeting, livestreams it for her Instagram followers with her customary biting commentary, and leaves. She does not return.)

As she comes to the end of her mental list, Amy realises that almost every annoying thing Jake does…is not only endearing…but is actually prompted by his good heart and a genuine desire to make her smile.

_Fuck._

x

The next few weeks roll by, and bring with them an onslaught of finals, deceptively simple pop quizzes that count for 65% of the year’s grade, and presentations for nearly every class.

For Amy, that means retreating to the library for hours at a time, occasionally pausing to grab an apple from the nearby campus shop. Her hair is a perpetual bird’s nest, falling languidly from its ponytail, and she doesn’t bother to conceal the stark bruises underneath her eyes which are a testament to the five hours of sleep she’s scraping.

One positive – or so she tries to convince herself – is that with all her time eaten up by studying, she hasn’t seen Jake in nearly a week, so she doesn’t have to worry about accidentally hinting that she might have a little crush on him.

She bypasses Stenography Club for an exam workshop, postpones her tutoring sessions until further notice, and stays off social media as much as she can to avoid distractions (namely, Jake).

However, she’s highlighting a section in her Criminology textbook about Jack the Ripper and can’t help thinking about Jake’s insistence that if he’d only been around in London in the nineteenth century, he’d for _sure_ have got the bastard, when she decides to stop kidding herself.

She misses him. And his spit-wads.

As if on cue, her phone vibrates.

**[20:03] From: Jake Peralta**

**hey wanna hang out**

She deliberates on whether or not to reply, fingers hovering over the keypad. If she texts back and tells him she’s at the library, he’ll almost certainly come and distract her – intentionally or not – just by being his usual excitable self, and she really can’t afford any distractions right now.

But, she also really wants to see him.

**[20:06] To: Jake Peralta**

**I’m studying, Jake. Finals start next week.**

**[20:07] From: Jake Peralta**

**boring**

**[20:07]**

**cmon santiago you could probably write an entire textbook yourself on ANY of your classes**

**[20:10]**

**santiagoooooooooo**

**[20:11] To: Jake Peralta**

**Jake, I haven’t eaten since noon and I’m prone to hypoglycaemic rage. Don’t test me.**

He doesn’t reply after that, and Amy’s conscience stings as she hopes she didn’t come across as too prickly in her last text. It’s hard line to toe, between a bit of biting sarcasm and unpleasantness.

Half an hour later, her nose emerges from her revision notes as a plastic Tupperware and fork is carefully set down beside her. She catches a whiff of something barely sweet and musky, like old leather, and looks up to see Jake peering sheepishly down at her.

‘What are you doing?’ she blurts out, but he doesn’t seem offended. She’s suddenly painfully aware of how tired and dishevelled she is and runs her fingers surreptitiously through her hair.

‘Bringing you food.’ he hands her a napkin (a napkin! Jake Peralta, who she once saw eat a sour candy he’d found in his jacket from ‘two winters ago’, brought her a _napkin_ ) with a nonchalant shrug. ‘You said you hadn’t eaten, so…’

‘You made me paella?’ Amy stares into the tub, still warm. She’s suddenly speechless, clueless in how to articulate to him the affection that’s practically effervescing in her tired brain.

‘No, Charles made it.’ says Jake. ‘He uh, had some friends over and there was extra, so he said you could have it since it’s your favourite and I knew you were hungry so I just, um, brought it over. He didn’t put anything weird in it, don’t worry.’

Amy doesn’t say anything, but her eyes trail up the table to meet his gaze. He stares at her with an unreadable expression for a few seconds, before adding, ‘It’s no big deal, Amy, really.’

She nods unconvincingly, and then, like a flash of lightning, there it is, lighting up his entire face, that fucking smile, that _grin_ , wide and toothy and curling sloppily at the corners. He smiles with his eyes, Jake, and they’re these inexplicably dark gemstones, like trapped amber, and _god-damn fucking shit,_ just like that, she likes him.

Or more accurately, she realises she likes him. Romantically. And rather a lot. And for rather a while now. Maybe it’s not just a silly crush after all.

‘Ames?’

She jerks, gaze quickly darting back to the meal in front of her. ‘I – um – thank you. Yes. Thank you, Jake.’

Jake smiles again, although it’s a little shy now. ‘Like I said. Charles did all the hard work. I just delivered. So, I’ll have my tip and then I’ll be on my way, m’lady.’

Amy blinks at him. Her head is still hazy with the fog of everything she’s feeling for this man-child in front of her and the case studies she’s been poring over for however long.

‘You know where you can stick your tip,’ she manages, and Jake laughs.

‘Title of your sextape.’

Ugh. Even something she first found immature and juvenile is now making her laugh when for the past hour all she’s wanted to do is cry, because _midterms_ and _Holt_ and _literal gut-wrenching hunger_.

‘Okay so, cool, looks like you’ve got it all under control here.’ Jake nods at her desk, which is of course neat and tidy and in perfect contrast to his own, wherever that may be. ‘Unless you want me to test you or something, I’ll go. Die Hard’s calling my name.’

‘Uh – nope!’ Amy says, although it comes out as more of a squeak. ‘I’m fine. Good. Great, actually.’

‘Right.’ Jake says, eyeing her. ‘You’re gonna go home soon, aren’t you?’

‘I’m meeting Kylie at ten to go over our cue cards for our Economics presentation.’

‘Fun. Don’t get too rowdy now, I know how quickly these study sessions of yours can turn into drunken escapades like TP-ing the Vice-Chancellor’s office.’

‘Ha-ha. Bye, Jake.’

‘Later.’

She tucks into the paella – it’s mind-blowingly good – all thought of revision extinguished. She supposes she’d better thank Charles – it’s dangerous, because texting him often triggers a surge of messages which are increasingly less subtle in his desire for something to happen between Jake and Amy.

**[20:49] To: Charles Boyle**

**Hi. Thanks for the paella, that was really nice of you. It's delicious. A**

**[20:50] From: Charles Boyle**

**It’s no problem!! Jake said it was your favourite!!**

**[20:51]**

**When he asked me to make it I knew IT HAD TO BE FOR YOU! YOU TWO ARE SO SWEET**

**[20:51]**

**Is he with you now? Say hi from me!!!!**

Amy frowns. Jake asked Charles to make the paella, specially for her, because he knows it’s her favourite?

So Jake lied when he said it had all been Charles’ doing.

Jake Peralta…asked his friend to make Amy’s favourite food…even though Charles probably went crazy and bent Jake’s ear about washing Amy’s hair…because Jake knew she hasn’t eaten all day…and he came all the way to the library just to bring it to her…

Her heart swells and it feels as though it’s filling her chest cavity, light and airy and full of promise.

Oh God, she really does like him. She likes Jake Peralta. Romantically.

But she doesn’t know what the hell she’s going to do about it.

x

It’s as though every student releases a collective breath once finals week is over. The library is no longer permeated by a blend of sweat and desperation and is empty once more.

Amy takes two days to visit her parents, and two of her brothers tag along. Her weekend is nice; her mom even gives the ‘dating’ questions a rest and she chats to her dad about police work before Diego and Manny drive her back into the city on Sunday afternoon. She’s buoyed with red wine and her dad’s spectacular cooking and generally feeling happy.

Jake seemed disappointed when she told him she was going home (‘but, Ames, we were all gonna get super drunk and rearrange everything in Holt’s classroom as an end-of-year prank!’) but he sent her a ton of updates of himself, Gina and Charles doing just that and despite herself, Amy giggles.

‘What are you laughing at?’ Manny asks as they lug her overnight bag up to her dormitory.

‘Nothing,’ Amy says, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. ‘Here’s my floor.’

They turn the corner and her heart drops. Jake’s lounging on the floor, back propped up against her door. He’s playing a game on his phone, oblivious to her presence, and she fights to keep the smile off her face, knowing Manny and Diego are watching her.

‘Jake,’ she says, finally, and the grin he gives her when he sees her makes her heart thump wildly.

‘Hey, Amy, you’re back!’ he says, leaping up before he spots her brothers, standing dumbly on either side of her like bodyguards.

‘This is Manuel, and that’s Diego, my eldest brothers.’ Amy says, trying not to stound stiff. When previous boyfriends have met her brothers, they’ve either been standoffish and aggressively masculine to hide how intimidated they are, or so nervous they’ve clammed up and not said a word. ‘This is my…friend, Jake.’

‘Cool, nice to meet you guys.’ Jake beams, and Amy’s not even surprised when Manny pulls Jake in for a ‘cool-guy handshake’.

‘Hey, you’re the dude Amy wouldn’t shut up about for like, the first three weeks of the year,’ Diego says, ignoring the furious look Amy flashes him. Jake smirks at her.

‘Did you really replace the ‘a’ with the ‘s’ on this Holt guy’s keyboard?’

Jake laughs, and her brothers laugh along with him. ‘Yeah, that was a good prank. Holt called the technician down when he couldn’t get his password right and neither of them could figure out what was going wrong.’

‘Amy was so pissed about that,’ Manny says with a chuckle. ‘She’s obsessed with Holt.’

‘Thanks for bringing me back.’ Amy says pointedly, interrupting the laughter.

‘Jesus Amy, we can take a hint.’

‘Is that any way to treat your favourite brothers?’

She punches them playfully; they exchange hugs (and knowing looks at Jake) before leaving. Amy’s grateful they didn’t say anything else, although she knows she’s going to be in for it at the next Santiago family gathering.

‘Your brothers seem cool.’ Jake says, as Amy unlocks her door and he follows her inside.

Rosa’s sitting on her bed sharpening a dagger. Both of them are used to walking in on such happenings, and don’t react.

‘Hey Rosa.’

‘Hey, did you have a good time at your lame family thing?’

In the nearly a year that she’s roomed with Rosa, the two of them have awkwardly navigated their way towards something like friendship. Rosa still pulls a face when Amy makes a particularly nerdy comment, and Amy still tells Rosa to keep her feet off the furniture, but they undeniably nurse a soft spot for each other. They’re living together again next year, off-campus, and Amy’s looking forward to it.

‘Yeah, it was fun.’ she says, turning to Jake. ‘Um – how come you were-?’

‘I knew you were coming back now so I figured I’d wait for you because…’ he drums his fingers theatrically on the dresser. ‘We’re going to a party tonight. Me, you, Charles, Gina, Rosa if she’s up for it…’

Rosa pauses in her ministrations to nod almost imperceptibly, before continuing.

‘What? Jake, I don’t think-’

‘I know parties are…kinda not your thing.’ Jake says, and Rosa snorts. ‘But we have to do something to celebrate finishing finals.’

The harsh metallic scraping of Rosa’s knife thrums in Amy’s skull.

‘I don’t-’

‘C’mon Santiago, pleeeeeeease,’ Jake whines. ‘It won’t be the same without your weird dancing and shouting about how much you love Michelangelo.’

‘Not really selling it, Jake.’

Jake pouts and it’s halfway between really adorable and really aggravating. Amy looks at him for a few seconds, something tugging at her heartstrings and silently cursing the universe up and down for causing her to develop a crush on this idiot.

‘Okay, fine, I’ll come.’ she says, hating herself for how easily he convinced her, and Jake fist-pumps which makes her laugh.

‘Cool cool cool cool cool cool, no doubt no doubt.’ he wrings his hands, and grins at her with a flimsy attempt at indifference. ‘I’ll swing by later with Boyle and Gina, then.’

‘Okay.’

The minute he’s out the door Rosa stands up and stands menacingly in Amy’s space.

‘What?’ Amy says, backing away slightly.

‘How long have you two had the hots for each other?’ Rosa demands.

‘It’s not like that!’ Amy wriggles past Rosa so that the taller girl can’t see her face and starts fidgeting with the throw on her bed. ‘We’re friends, nothing more.’

‘You flirt with him all the time.’ she can practically _hear_ Rosa raising her eyebrows. ‘He’s always here, he throws love letters into your hair-’ Amy hears a crumple of paper and curses, she _knew_ she should have hidden those somewhere better ‘-and he just acted like a toddler because you refused to go to a party with him. You’re just as stupid as he is if you think you’re just friends.’

‘That’s not-’ Amy stops herself. There’s no point lying to Rosa, she always sees past the bullshit. It’s one of the best things about her. And maybe she could get some advice (she loves Kylie, but the girl’s idea of flirting is confusing people with the etymology of ‘sexy’ words).

‘Okay, you’re right.’ she says, and faces Rosa, whose expression hasn’t shifted from one of faint disinterest. ‘About me, at least. I like Jake, but…I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to ruin our friendship with all these feelings that I don’t even know if he shares.’

‘I know you’re like, basically blind without your contacts, but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and that’s counting the time you said that Professor Hitchcock was probably hot when he was younger.’ Rosa says coolly. ‘Anyone with eyes can see that Jake wants to bone you.’

‘Rosa!’ Amy hisses.

‘Fine, wants to take you on a lame date and wash your hair and then bone you, whatever.’ Rosa rolls her eyes. ‘Point is, dude has it bad for you.’

Amy’s stomach backflips. If there’s truth to what Rosa’s saying – and she supposes, the signs are kind of there, she doesn’t even have to squint – this could mean…well…this could mean-

‘Look. We’re gonna go to this party, you’re gonna get a bit tipsy but not so drunk you don’t know what you’re doing, and see where the night goes.’ Rosa grabs her leather jacket from its hook. ‘I’m gonna go see if my date from last night wants to come.’

Amy knows better than to ask questions about Rosa’s personal life, so she retreats to the bathroom to get ready. She’s never been to a real ‘college’ party before and the nervousness has already set in. After a lot of deliberation, she texts Gina to ask for outfit advice.

The response is instant – ‘don’t even think about dressing yourself, ill be over in half an hour’.

x

Jake and Charles arrive with a bang at Amy’s dorm, surprisingly punctual. They’ve both had a beer already and Charles isn’t even trying to hide his moony eyes from Rosa. This is unfortunate, however, because Rosa’s girlfriend Alicia is over and the two of them barely have eyes for anyone else.

Amy brushes herself down one last time. She looks good, she knows she does – even Gina gave her a ‘damn, girl’ when she zipped up the dress. It’s red and simple but it hugs her in all the right places. She’s let her hair down and it shines under the dim lighting, delicately brushing her elbow.

She walks out of her room: Rosa and Alicia are making out on the couch (will they actually make it to the party? It’s debatable), Charles is being roasted by Gina for something or other, not that he seems to mind, and Jake is laughing at them both.

He looks up and drinks her in; she sees a muscle in his jaw twitch and a half-smile cracks across his face as his throat bobs with a hard swallow.

‘Amy, hey, you uh, you look pretty.’ he says so quietly she barely hears it.

‘What was that?’ Gina says from behind him.

‘I said you look shitty!’ Jake blurts out, before a horrified look sweeps over his face. Amy doesn’t know whether to be amused, annoyed or a little smug that she’s made him so nervous he’s tripping over his words.

‘I mean – what? No!’ he says in a rush. ‘Hey, Charles, didn’t you wear a waistcoat to class last month?’

As Gina pounces on that, Jake turns to Amy and offers her a sheepish smile. She considers pressing the issue, but decides against it – she’s not that cruel.

They head over to the party – it’s at the house of some dude Jake and Charles know from one of their classes but aren’t very familiar with. As they approach, loud music reverberates across the ground. There are crushed red cups and cigarettes everywhere, people making out on the doorstep and boys chanting as they up-end a friend over a beer keg.

‘Awesome,’ Jake says and Charles nods in agreement. Gina pulls out her phone and walks inside without a backwards glance. Rosa and Alicia follow.

They grab drinks – watery beer, but better than nothing – and immediately people converge on Jake. Amy knows he’s popular, but it’s a little unsettling to see so many people clapping him on the back and laughing at his jokes.

She suddenly realises what’s going to happen – Jake will get dragged off by his friends and she won’t see him again for the rest of the evening, scuppering her plans of a quiet corner for just the two of them. Worse still, she’ll be left on her own with nobody to talk to.

Jake’s still laughing and chatting with a group of people that she of course doesn’t recognise: she feels the familiar cold paralysis of panic seizing her chest and blindly looks around for the door, ready to run all the way home, lock the door and not emerge until morning.

That’s when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

‘Hey, c’mon, let’s play beer pong.’ Jake says happily, grabbing her hand. She can’t help but smile as she takes a breath and lets him tug her over to the table where a bunch of people are waiting with a pyramid of red cups.

And from there, it’s all a bit of a blur.

She’s actually _really good_ at beer pong – her competitiveness supersedes her anxiety at being surrounded by a bunch of strangers, and she quickly becomes the girl to beat. And through it all, Jake’s cheering her on, albeit surprised at how talented she is at a game she’s never played before.

They socialise. Amy’s never found it easy to make friends; she lacks Jake’s confidence (even if it is not completely genuine), his infectious charisma, his humour.

But the beer loosens her tongue and two drinks in, sure she’s a little loud, but she’s enjoying herself and not worrying too much about whether people think she’s being weird.

And Jake seems proud to be there with her. He introduces her to all his friends as ‘Amy Santia- _pro-at-beer-pong’_ and doesn’t leave her side once.

Charles bobs in and out of their conversation, wriggling his eyebrows at them which they both choose to ignore.

After three drinks, Amy wants to dance. So she does. Charles lets her spin him around a bit before she joins the throng of people gyrating in the living room.

Jake doesn’t try to hide his glee at the return of ‘Amy Dancepants’ as Gina’s christened her and they dance together. He’s a better dancer than she is, but he lets her twirl him and indulges her air-guitar moves.

When she hits four drinks, a passably attractive guy approaches her. His name’s Teddy, he’s in her Criminology class, and he thinks her capacity for remembering so many serial killers’ active periods is amazing. She looks at him, squinting a little through the alcohol buzzing in her brain, and sees…nothing. He’s boring. And he’s mentioned how bad it is that this party doesn’t have Pilsners about three times already. So when he asks her if she wants to get drinks next week, she doesn’t hesitate to say no.

She looks behind her and sees Jake, supposedly talking to Rosa, but his eyes keep drifting over to her and Teddy and they’re narrowed in a way she hasn’t seen before. He’s not smiling, either, his face contorted in more of a grimace, hand clutching his beer bottle tightly.

She’s suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him, to rake her fingernails, hard, through his curls, to take the bottom lip she’s always seeing him worry between her teeth and suck.

‘Uh, I’d better get back to my friends.’ she says to Teddy, who looks affronted. ‘Nice meeting you, Teddy.’

‘Who was that?’ Jake says as she walks back over. He’s still looking at Teddy over her shoulder, clearly still annoyed.

‘Someone from our Crim class,’ Amy says. ‘He asked me on a date.’

‘Noice, toit.’ Jake says in a horribly fake-upbeat tone. ‘Bet you’re glad you came now.’

‘I said no.’ Amy says, her eyes never leaving his. ‘He was really boring. He seems like the kind of dude who would go to San Diego on his honeymoon.’

Jake laughs, all traces of jealousy (she’s not stupid) ebbing quickly away from his face.

‘Hey, so what happened to that girl you took on a date?’ Amy says. ‘The law student?’

‘Oh, Sophia.’ Jake shrugs. ‘It didn’t work out. We had a good time, chicken wings and beer, but…I dunno, there was something missing. Not the right girl, y’know?’

Amy nods slowly in understanding, concealing her elation at this revelation. Truthfully, the thought of Jake with another girl gives her a heaviness in the pit of her stomach.

She catches Rosa’s eye from behind Jake. Her friend is giving her a meaningful stare – about as direct as Rosa gets when it comes to personal matters – and Amy pries Jake’s half-finished beer from his hands, takes a swig, and says, a little breathlessly, ‘Do you want to get some air?’

Jake looks surprised, but not displeased. To the contrary, he smiles and gestures for her to lead the way. So she does, pretending not to hear Charles squealing in the background.

x

They’re swept with a gust of the chilly night air as soon as they step outside, and a violent shiver creeps up Amy’s back. She’s never done well with the cold. Jake shrugs off his hoodie without saying anything and wraps it around her shoulders; she says nothing, but takes his hand.

They walk far enough from the party so that the hum of the music isn’t so jarring and end up sitting on a park bench, crested by trees and the luminous eye of the moon.

‘So, first college party, what’s your verdict?’ Jake breaks the silence.

‘It was fun,’ she says, and she means it. She did have fun. And that’s pretty much all thanks to Jake. She tells him as much, and he gives her a cocky smile and makes a joke along those lines but she can tell he’s touched.

‘Sorry I was so annoying this year.’ Jake says unexpectedly. She looks at him; he’s watching her uncertainly. ‘It’s fun to mess with you, but I got carried away sometimes.’

‘No.’ Amy wants to trail her hand from the frail curl on his forehead down the curve of his jaw. She wants to cup it in her hands and bring his big mouth down on her own, wants to taste him, savour him, wants him to wrap his calloused palms around her waist and hoist her onto his lap. She wants to have him.

But she doesn’t.

‘You were annoying, but…’ she pauses, waits for him to meet her eyes again. ‘You make me laugh.’ she doesn’t even care if he hears the tremor in her voice in the last bit, because he’s looking at her now like his world has sharpened down to this one moment, to the two of them, like everything could crumble around them and he wouldn’t even blink.

She wants to feel the silk of his skin under her fingertips, to swallow every bad thought or feeling he’s ever had with her own mouth, to claw at the back of his neck in her fervour to bring him closer. She wants to close her eyes and slide her tongue across his lips, wants to scrape her thigh against the coarse material of his jeans, wants to stroke his hair and press her mouth languidly against his neck.

So this time, she does.

His head moves about half an inch closer to her and she acts on instinct, one hand gently bringing his mouth down to her own and finally feeling his lips, soft and pliant against her own. His face is warm and heavy in her hand, and then she realises – he’s not kissing back.

She pulls away abruptly; his eyes fly open as she jolts away from him. He looks startled, confused, everything she’d been afraid of.

‘I’m sorry-’ she stumbles in her apology, shakes off his hoodie and lays it in her vacant spot on the bench. And then she turns and runs.

She doesn’t stop running until she makes it back to her room, and only then does she let herself cry, the image of Jake’s eyes wide and perplexed burning into her sleep.

x

She wakes the next day to the sound of someone pounding on her front door.

‘Rosa?’ she mumbles hopefully into her pillow, but when she lifts her head enough to glance over at Rosa’s bed, it’s empty.

 _Of all mornings for her to have stayed at Alicia’s_ , Amy thinks, untangling her legs from the sheets. Her mouth is dry, but she’s not too hungover, which is surprising considering she cried most of the water in her body out last night.

She pads groggily over to the door, rubbing her eyes, forgetting to check the peep hole. There’s another loud pounding.

‘I’m coming.’ she opens the door and stills.

Jake’s standing there. In his hands are a large coffee cup and a paper bag from her favourite breakfast place. His expression is unreadable.

‘We need to talk.’ he says before she can say anything or slam the door because she’s not ready to have a conversation about her embarrassing drunken blunder last night, least of all because it had nothing to do with her inebriation and everything to do with how much she likes this man.

But she steps aside and lets him come in, because she really needs that coffee and what she’s hoping is a cinnamon-and-raisin bagel and she doesn’t feel like getting dressed and getting them herself.

He walks over to her bed, but doesn’t sit on it, instead turns to face her. He takes a breath and his eyes shift around the room and Amy waits for the inevitable ‘look, we’re friends but you’re not the right girl for me, any more than Sophia was so I think we should just forget this happened and-’

‘I’m sorry about last night.’ Jake interrupts her internal descent into insanity.

‘What? Why are you sorry?’ Amy’s head snaps up. ‘ _I’m_ sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

Jake stares at her for a few seconds, brow furrowed. Then he speaks.

‘Amy, you’ve got it all wrong.’

He sighs, as though he’s irritated with himself for being in this situation at all, and then it all comes spilling out. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t think there was a chance of you feeling the same way, since I’m so immature and you’re so together and _so pretty_ and just, you know, you, but God, Amy, I just really like you and I have done for ages, and I was moping about it the whole of last semester because I didn’t think it’d ever happen and then you kissed me but you left before I could say anything, or y’know, kiss you back and walk you home ‘cause you were kind of drunk, but you’re much faster than me and I ran after you but you were long gone.’

Amy’s eyes are getting wider and wider with every statement, but Jake keeps going, pausing only to take a breath.

‘I would have maybe said something sooner but I was in denial about it all until Charles pulled me aside and called me out on all the “pigtail pulling” like the notes and the sextape jokes and he was right, I really fucking like you and I’m sick of pretending like I don’t, because that’s dumb.’

He gulps as he finishes speaking and Amy’s brain is whirring with all this new information and she’s too dehydrated to categorise any of it, but she knows he’s waiting for her to say something.

‘I only ran away because I thought you…didn’t feel that way about me.’ she says, with an effort.

He looks at her incredulously. ‘Really? Amy, I drank orangina for you. You think I’d do that for any other girl?’

She shakes her head, but it’s affectionate, and when she leans towards him he’s already in her space, hands twitching by her waist. His eyes, darker than she’s ever seen them, hover on her mouth and then he’s kissing her, really kissing her. His lips are a little chapped, but soft, and he tastes like sweet coffee, warm against her. She moans almost inaudibly when he teases her mouth with his tongue, but moments later he’s pulling away and applying the same pressure to the sensitive spot on her clavicle, sucking as one of his hands finds purchase on her waist, bringing her closer, and the other thumbs her jaw, fingertips buried in her hair. She reciprocates, plunging both her hands into his mess of curls, tugging in a way that makes him groan into her neck.

They’re not going to have sex for the first time when she’s got morning breath and last night’s makeup smeared on her pillowcase, Amy knows at the back of her mind, so it’s with reluctance that she nudges him away. His pupils are blown, lips already red and swollen, and yeah, she’s going to remember that image for a _long_ time. Right now though, she’s going to have breakfast with him and maybe take him on a date, and she’ll promise herself she won’t sleep with him straight away but given the way he’s breathing haggardly and looking at her, she won’t be surprised if they end up breaking a few of her rules tonight.

And if it means she gets to kiss Jake Peralta like that, that’s okay by Amy.

He grins against her mouth, until suddenly his eyes narrow and he peels Amy’s hands away to get a closer look at something.

‘Hey, isn’t that my hoodie?’

x

Entirely to the expectations of his friends and family, Jake Peralta _loves_ college.

Sure, he never really paid much attention at school, preferring to skip Bio to watch Die Hard and act out cool cop car chases in his bedroom. And truthfully, half of the reason he works so hard on his NYU application is because it’s important to his mom he gets a college education and his mom is important to him, so.

But a year in to his four year degree, and he’s happier than he’s ever been. Jake Peralta doesn’t really make lists – he’s more of a ‘Sharpie on the back of his wrist’ guy, but if he had to, he thinks he’d categorise the best things about this year like this:

  1. He’s met some dope people.  
  
(No further explanation needed.)  

  2. He’s adapted pretty easily to the college lifestyle. A few all-nighters here and there, parties on the weekends. Okay, so he was laughed out of football try-outs and nobody will ever forget the time he accidentally called Professor Holt ‘Dad’.  
  
But all in all, he’s definitely cooler than he was in high school.  

  3. He’s got the most awesome, brilliant, super-hot girlfriend of all time and not only do they have stupid-good sex on the regular, but they’re ridiculously supportive of each other in everything. She helps him get places on time (within reason – he’s still Jake) and eat more healthily (he misses his daily sour candies, but he has to admit his teeth have felt smoother since he limited himself to once a week) and listens to him talk about everything, whether it’s how much he loves Die Hard (he loves her more, obviously) or what a deadbeat asshole his dad is and kisses the sadness away because he’s got the ‘kindest soul’ she’s ever met or something, and he can’t help but feel happy when she’s around (even when she wants him to be the big spoon for a change. He supposes that’s a fair exchange for keeping her.)  
  
In return, he braids her hair for her (he got Gina to teach him how) when she hits a 1 on her personal panic scale, and makes sure she leaves the library to get a decent amount of sleep every night, and listens to her talk about her dream to be the youngest Captain in NYPD history (they’re gonna be detectives together, how dope is that?) and kisses her until the tension seeps out of her shoulders. He goes down on her when he knows she needs to take a break, and his breath is barely skimming her thighs when the folders slide off the bed because yeah, he knows what he’s doing and when he has his tongue wrapped around her clit and _sucks_ revision is the last thing on her mind (and he’s a shaking mess whenever she returns the favour. She really puts 110% into everything she does).



If you’d told Jake Peralta from the first day of class that he’d be dating teacher’s pet Amy Santiago by the end of the year, he wouldn’t have believed you. Even though that Jake spent hours thinking of ways to annoy her and thought that was normal; even though he turned up to the meeting of the Club she was starting despite not having a clue what it was for, just so he could spend time with her. Even though he signed up to said club because he couldn’t stand seeing that sad look on her face and the way it tore at something in his chest.

But the Jake that’s currently in her bed, arms encircling her, lips pressed to the crown of her head, wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> guys. guys. andy samberg’s smile, guys. am I right?
> 
> apparently I am incapable of writing a oneshot AU without making it a 10,000+ word monstrosity.  
> also you can now find me on tumblr @vic-kovac
> 
> what are comments and kudos worth? emotionally? 700 million dollars.
> 
> p.s. can u tell I don’t like teddy? lol


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